Stripped
by Mrs Pettyfer
Summary: Let me see you stripped to the bone. Let me hear you speaking just for me.


****Category: ****Harry Potter  
><strong><strong>Author:<strong> **Mrs Pettyfer**  
><strong>Title: <strong>**Stripped  
><strong><strong>Pairing(s): <strong>**Dominique/Lysander, Rose/Scorpius, Albus/OC  
><strong>Genre: <strong>Romance/Drama  
><strong>Rating:<strong> M for language and a scenes of sexual nature  
><strong>AN:** This is a spin off one shot of my Scorose novella, _White Flag_. You don't have to read WF first, but you might appreciate this more if you do. Also this will ruin the ending of WF so keep that in mind. ;) This one shot follows the epilogue of WF in Dominique's perspective. I decided to write it in first person, unlike WF, because it helped me figure out her character more. Anyway, I hope you like it. It's inspired a bit from the song _Stripped_, by Shiny Toy Guns. =)

**Casting:** Emilie de Ravin as Dominique Weasley; Chace Crawford as Lysander Scamander; Shia LaBeouf as Albus Potter; Karen Gillan as Rose Weasley; Alex Pettyfer as Scorpius Malfoy

* * *

><p>"You're Breathing in fumes<br>I taste when we kiss  
>Take My Hand<br>Come Back To The Land  
>Where Everything's Ours<br>For a Few Hours

Let Me See You  
>Stripped Down to the bone<br>Let me Hear you  
>Speaking Just For Me<br>Let me see you  
>Stripped Down to the bone." - <em>Stripped<em>, Shiny Toy Guns

**Chapter 1 - Just One More Time**

I never really liked weddings.

I know, that probably sounds really morbid and cruel of me to say but honestly, they're sort of depressing. They're basically like Valentine's Day. If you don't have a boyfriend, or a date in general, you might as well paint a big ass sign on your face that says _Look at me, I'm alone and single and miserable! _The single life isn't so bad most of the time. I love parties and drinking and going out. Meeting new people; people I'll never have to see again so it doesn't matter how stupid I act.

But at a wedding? My best friend's wedding, specifically? It's a bit of a ball buster. Yeah, I'm female, I know, but you know what I mean. A kick to the face, a stab in the heart—that sort of shit.

Don't get me wrong: I'm completely happy for Rose and Scorpius. Actually they were really pissing me off the past year. Scorpius decided to marry my cousin, Lily—who knows why; probably to make Rose jealous—and that totally backfired. Scorpius realized he still loved Rose, Rose realized she still loved Scorpius, and Lily realized she really loved Lorcan Scamander.

Just hearing or thinking _Scamander_ made my eye twitch.

I have no problem with Lorcan. He's actually a really good guy. Handsome features, bronze and gold tousled hair and dark blue eyes. He's the guy that always holds open doors and lets you cry on his shoulder. The kind that would go out in a rainstorm to get you ice cream if you wanted some at two in the morning. The kind of guy you want to take home to meet your parents.

Now his older brother, Lysander? Not so much.

I've been trying to avoid him all night. He's always surrounded by woman anyway, so that hasn't been too much of a problem. But I know he'll corner me eventually. He'll want to talk about what happened on Korra Island—the location of Scorpius and Lily's honeymoon—since I've done a good job avoiding the subject for the past year. Yeah, I was at my cousin's honeymoon. So was just about everyone else in the wizarding world, including Lysander. What do they say? What happens in paradise stays in paradise?

I thought that sounded pretty damn good. I didn't want to talk about what happened. It didn't change anything so there wasn't a point. And I wasn't a fan of talking about something if it didn't serve a purpose.

I didn't need to talk. What I needed was another drink. A strong, strong drink.

Rose and Scorpius just took the center of the dance floor, preparing to dance to their first song together. The way they move, it's like watching a lion and lioness. Each movement is mirrored by the other, and their eyes can always find each other in a crowded room. Rose with her auburn curls and pale, lean figure; and Scorpius, all golden and bronzed. They were like two pieces of a puzzle. I wasn't much of a soul mate kind of girl but I had to admit, if there was such a thing, it would be Rose and Scorpius.

I really needed a drink.

I moved through the edges of the dance floor, lifting the bottom of my silver dress so it didn't drag. A waiter stood near the edge of the marquee and I practically tackled him for a glass of wine. He scowled at me and scurried away, darting back into the crowd. I took a whiff of the dark colored liquid and sighed. Madam Rosmerta's finest. You can never go wrong with that. I swallowed a large gulp before I could stop myself.

"They look happy, don't they?"

I turned at the voice to find Albus Potter, my cousin. His arms were crossed over his waistcoat and he stared out over the dance floor. I followed his gaze and smiled at the newly weds. "Yeah, they do."

"I liked your speech," Albus commented. "The fact that you were sober made it even better."

I laughed. "I promised Rose I'd remember what I actually said. Mum thinks I'm becoming an alcoholic."

"Are you?"

"Of course not!" When Albus's eyes narrowed in on my wine I added hastily, "It's only my third glass and we both know I can hold it down."

"Better than any bloke I know." Albus snorted. "Except maybe James."

"Yeah well, James has also lost half his brain cells with the way he parties and blows to the head from Quidditch."

"Yeah." Albus was quiet a moment and I turned to look at him, but his attention was on a dark headed girl dressed in a long silver gown. Her back was facing us but I knew that posture, and that dress, anywhere.

I eyed Albus suspiciously. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

"What?" He blinked and turned back to me. "Who?"

"Vinny you creep." I nudged him in the shoulder. "If you keep staring at her like that and don't make a move people will question your motives."

"Motives?"

"You know—the types of blokes that stalk women, lure them away, and then rape them."

Albus's face was incredulous. "I'm not going to _rape_ her!" He shook his head angrily. "Honestly, what the hell goes on inside your head?"

"I'll let you know when I figure that out." I took a sip of wine. "So go ask her to dance or something."

"I don't know…"

"Why are you being so weird?" Albus was never like this around Vinny. He had been around her for years. If anything, Vinny was the one that stuttered her way around him. Rose and I both knew she had a crush on him, and had for a long time. But now, looking at Albus, I honestly think he had no idea.

Men were completely clueless.

"She looks really nice tonight," Albus said a low voice. "I mean she always looks nice, but—" He stopped talking and looked down.

If I didn't love the git so much I might have made fun of him. Albus always had a sharp tongue. Seeing him all ruffled was gratifying. Still though, he wasn't just my cousin, but one of my good friends. I wasn't good at this pep talk shit but I was buzzed enough to give it a shot.

"Al…look," I started, "just go get her a drink or something. Ask her to dance—whatever. Don't tell her I told you but she's in to you. Always has been." Albus looked at me, surprised, and I cracked a smile. "If you honestly didn't know, you're more foolish than I realized."

Albus looked a bit sheepish but decided to take my advice. I watched him move through the crowd toward Vinny with a satisfied smirk on my face. I had to admit, I felt pretty damn good, like I had accomplished something. I glanced down at my wine and nearly frowned. It was almost empty.

I really needed to find James and Fred. They'd get pissed with me before the night was over. I promised Rose I'd be on good behavior for the wedding. And I had been. But when the music slowed and couples began emerging on the dance floor, the emptiness started setting in again.

A waiter passed me just then—thank Merlin—and I snagged another glass of wine.

"Want to dance, sweet thang?"

_Sweet thang_?

I whirled around, my glass lifted poised in the air. This guy sort of looked familiar in that _Oh yeah, I've seen you somewhere before but you weren't important enough to remember_ kind of way. He's probably a year or two younger than me, and almost a foot shorter than me. Freckles. Bright green eyes. Pale skin and dark greased black hair. Large, curved nose. Eh. I wasn't drunk enough to deal with _that_.

He swayed a little and I caught a whiff of fire whiskey on his breath.

Charming.

"It's me." He grinned lazily and steadied himself against one of the empty chairs. "Robbie Fields. Remember? We met at…" he struggled to find the right words and sucked on his lip loudly.

Ah. Now I remembered that annoying tick. "The ceremony last month at the Ministry," I supplied.

"Yeah! That one!" He staggered a bit. "So how 'bout it…a dance?"

I pursed my lips. "Are you still a maintenance worker at the Ministry?"

"Sure am."

"Then no." I turned my back on him.

"But —"

"Robbie," I said, sighing. I faced him and placed a hand on his shoulder, bending down so we were eye to eye. Damn he was short—my back nearly broke. "Rob. Listen. Somewhere deep inside, you might have a great personality, and there are some girls out there who are interested in that. But I'm not one of them. I'm superficial, okay? If you look like—" I flipped a hand in his direction and frowned "—_that_…and you don't have money? It's just not going to work out, hot shot."

Robbie opened his mouth and closed it several times, shock plastered on his face.

"I'm actually doing you a favor," I went on, sliding an arm around his shoulders and steering him away. "I'm sorry if I'm just not interested in forcing myself, and you, into an awkward position."

"Awkward…position?" He struggled with the complexity of the words.

"You're sitting there on this random date and you're thinking…wow I'm not interested at all, but should I play interested anyway to be nice?" I shook my head. "But what if he's not interested, do I still need to act interested? Maybe he's miserable too and just pretending to be interested. Maybe he's really sleeping with a disgusting, trashy slag behind my back and wants to get out of this date so he can meet up with her. Maybe he's a lying, two faced bastard."

"It—just—a dance," Robbie choked out.

"That's what you all say, isn't it Rob?" I clicked my tongue. "Just a dance, just a kiss, just one time. At the end of a day, it's a big effing mistake. That's what it is. So I'm telling you this to do you a favor: One dance will not amount to anything between us. Ever. So why bother wasting our time?"

Robbie stared at me a moment. "You're a bitch, Dominique."

"Yeah well, at least I own up to it." I shoved him away and took another large gulp of wine. "Go bug someone else before I kick your scrawny ass."

Robbie scampered away, throwing me a few backwards glances. Maybe I was too tough on the guy. Maybe I needed to lay off the alcohol a bit. He'll look back on this moment and thank me someday, I'm sure of it. One less heart that has to be broken.

"That was a bit harsh."

I jumped, startled, and turned around. My mouth hardened to a fine line. "It's a harsh world."

"I know." Lysander grinned, his eyes the color of dark blue glass. He was lounged against one of the empty round tables, arms crossed. "But the poor guy probably won't sleep for a week after that let down."

"What do you want?" I didn't want small talk. Not with anyone, and certainly not with him.

"You."

"That's not funny."

"I'm not laughing."

I stared at him, fighting an urge to whip the amused look off his face with the back of my hand. Forget magic—I wanted the satisfaction of using my own hands to cause him pain. I thought Scorpius Malfoy was a proud, arrogant git but Lysander gave him a run for his money.

"Well you can't have me." Not now. Not ever.

"That's not what you said a few weeks ago."

I tried not to cringe. "That was a mistake."

Lysander took a step closer to me, amusement coloring his voice. "And the times before that?"

"Mistakes—all of them." I crossed my arms and glared at him to prove my point.

"You look beautiful tonight."

I blinked. "Were you not listening to a damn thing I've been saying? I don't want to see you, Lysander."

He was suddenly in front of me, gazing down with those deep blue eyes of his. A hand softly twisted one of my blonde curls. "Dance with me," he breathed.

"No."

"Dance with me," he repeated softly. "Just one time."

See, that's the problem with Lysander and I. _Just one time_ was basically our motto. Everything we did was based around the fact that it was just going to be one time. But that one time turned into many, many times. It's been this way for years. It started off pretty casual; Lysander hung out with Teddy a lot, and my sister was in love Teddy since the moment she saw him. I was forced to be around Lysander because of that alone, and in my fourth year, he actually kissed me after the Slytherin V.S. Gryffindor Quidditch match. He, a seventh year Slytherin, kissing a fourth year Gryffindor.

It was unheard of.

After that night, we'd randomly start sneaking off to snog in the corridors or during Hogsmeade visits we'd meet up somewhere reclusive. That was the bases of our relationship, even after he left Hogwarts. We'd see each other for holidays, and end up snogging when we were alone. It wasn't like complete hookups and one night stands, because we were actually friends outside our physical relationship. But we never committed to each other either. Lysander still got with other girls; I still got with other guys. Jealousy wasn't usually a problem. The only person that truly made my blood boil around Lysander, or anyone in general, was my cousin Lucy.

I hated that bitch more than just about anyone. She was literally like sweet poison. She acted nice to your face, charmed you with her smile and pretty long hair, and then stabbed you in the back the second you turned around. And then she wanted to still be friends.

Of course Lucy was smitten over Lysander—most girls were—but she should have known he belonged to me. In the way our relationship worked, that is. We were friends with benefits, so to say. And I was fine with that. I was completely content because that way no one had to get hurt. It was uncomplicated. Simple. No strings attached.

But then, of course, he had to ruin it all.

"I don't want to dance with you," I said to him suddenly, pulling myself away from the past.

"One dance and I'll leave you alone." Lysander could barely hold back a smile. He trailed his thumb along my jaw.

I swallowed. "We both know that's a lie."

"But you love the way I lie." He was full smile now, his white teeth glittering against the golden balls of light that hung above the marquee.

"Why would I love your lies?"

"Because you handle it better than the truth."

I pulled back, finally finding my senses. "That's bullshit."

"Really?" Lysander raised a delicate brow. "Is that why you freaked out that night?"

"I didn't _freak out_," I snapped heatedly. "You—it was the moment. Or whatever. It doesn't even matter because it was like a year ago."

"Keep telling yourself that, Dom," he said to me, but I was already walking away. What right did he have anyway, dropping the L bomb like that? It had been a mistake sleeping together on Korra Island; enjoyable, I couldn't deny that, but most definitely a mistake. The fact that he had slipped up made it even worse.

It was in the moment. He didn't mean it. And you should _never_ say those three little words unless you mean them. Period.

I got about halfway across the now crowded dance floor before he caught me by the arm and spun me around. My fists were clenched in front of my face and I froze at our sudden proximity. Lysander's eyes never left mine as he slowly ran his hands down my arms until I softened. I nearly shivered. He slowly, hesitantly, pulled my arms up behind his neck and interlocked our fingers. His head was bent down, pieces of his bronze hair falling in front of his eyes.

It was those eyes, those deep glass-blue eyes and thick black lashes that always got to me.

And just like that, what was left of my defenses dropped. Shattered like glass into tiny, miniscule jagged pieces. Razor sharp and deadly. I was completely stripped down to the bone. Lysander's usual amused features were unreadable, but his mouth was very, very close to mine. I could taste his breath on my lips.

Guests moved all around us, triggering in my mind that the music had picked up into something loud and active. I felt like I should start moving—dancing—but I couldn't. I couldn't really think at all. My mind went blank and I let out a shaky breath. I was glad the hanging balls of light had dimmed; the two of us no more than dark shadows to everyone else.

Lysander's arms dropped and wrapped around my waist. He pulled me closer, and that's when I noticed his eyes were no longer looking into mine, but at my lips. Suddenly the minimal space between us felt agonizing. It felt like I was drowning, suffocating. He moved in, slowly, and flicked his eyes up once, a mere hair away from my lips. He was asking for permission; I could read it in his eyes. But I couldn't give it or refuse it. I closed my eyes.

"You should stop," I breathed, eyes still pressed shut.

"Stop what?" His voice was soft. "This?" He slid the thin strap from my dress off my right shoulder and pressed his lips to the bare skin. "Or this?" To my neck. I shivered into his mouth. "Or this?"

His lips brushed against mine slowly, cautiously, as though afraid I might run away. Then when I didn't, he kissed me harder, his fingers digging at my lower back, into the fabric of my dress. I was suffocating again. I knotted my fingers in his hair and pulled him against me, as though I might otherwise drown. His mouth was sweet tasting and demanding, his kisses almost devouring. And I responded too kindly, like I couldn't get enough.

Lysander made a sort of impatient noise, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, and broke away from me. I felt dazed, and confused—why did he stop?—but he was pulling me out of the crowd. We made it out of the marquee, the dying sounds of music trailing behind. I was practically running, dragging him with me, when we stopped in a shadowy alcove on the side of Malfoy Manor.

With more force than I expected, Lysander fetched me against the side of the manor and pressed his body against mine. I made a little sound of surprise as our mouths pressed hotly together, and he lifted me off the ground so my body was pinned between him and the wall. My legs and arms wrapped around him like a coiling snake. I could barely hear the music from the reception and nearly forgot where I was. Lysander slid a hand into my hair and yanked out the diamond barrette, my curls tumbling around my face. My hands were out of my own control and slid over his tight muscles, up under his dress shirt, eager to yank it off.

That's when Lysander pulled back abruptly. My feet touched the ground and I steadied myself.

"Let's get out of here," he murmured in my ear between shaky breaths. "My place."

I could think of a thousand reasons to say no, but none of them overruled the desire I had to say yes. I crashed my lips against his, smiling into his mouth. A hand cupped the back of my neck and I heard him groan into my mouth. I slid a hand to the top of his belt and yanked him forward, like he was nothing more than a play thing. My fingers lingered against his skin. Tempting him, teasing him. I bit his lower lip gently and dragged a nail slowly along the line of his stomach, just above the top of his trousers.

He tensed and pulled back again, breathing hard. He looked down at me with such intensity that my body seemed to burn from the inside out.

"_Please_," he begged, the word dragging out of him, his voice shaky and low. He was fighting for control, and quickly losing the battle. I probably would have lost it myself had I not enjoyed seeing him so unhinged. Desire and lust was there, written clearly across his face.

For me. A consuming desire and lust and want—all for me.

The corners of my lips turned up. "That's all you had to say."

_Just one more time_, I thought.

Or maybe a few more times after that.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Well, that was a bit raunchier than I planned, or from what we saw in WF. But Dom and Lysander have a very physical relationship. :P And just for the record, Korra Island was one of MANY times they've slept together, haha. They were really fun to write; a refreshing break from writing Rose and Scorpius. I'm thinking about (thinking is the key word) expanding this story because I loved writing Dom and Lysander so much. But I feel like their relationship is so destructive and physical..I'm not sure if I can handle it, haha. Or what the plot would be. **

**So..I'm going to ponder it. Thoughts?**

**(Thank you for reading!) **


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